


Puppy Cargo: Alternate Ending

by SilverBlaze85



Series: Puppy Cargo Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Death, Gen, I'm not kidding...read the warnings here people, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBlaze85/pseuds/SilverBlaze85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The optional alternate ending to Puppy Cargo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Cargo: Alternate Ending

_Hey everyone. This was one of two endings, and I asked for volunteers to read, and decide which they felt was best for the story. I personally preferred the ending that we ultimately went with, but this was another option that I had on the table. If you're really emotional, you may want to take this opportunity to go get some tissues. Just sayin'._

_Anyway, enjoy! ~Blaze_  
*************************

Twenty Years Later:

The incessant ringing of the phone dragged Sam from the doze the painkillers had put him in, and he glanced around blearily, trying to get his bearings together. He eventually found the phone, flipped it on. “Sam Singer, Singer Salvage.”

“I’m lookin for a few parts for an older Ford truck, you got any on the lot?” The voice was young and female, hesitant, and he rubbed his eyes, wanting to groan. The young females were the worst; they usually didn’t know what exactly they wanted, and the computer inventory program didn’t show parts. And Dean was out on a hunt, so he couldn’t hand it over. Fuck.

“Yeah, what kind of parts, and what year?”

“They’re obscure, but if you’ve got the trucks, then you’ve got the parts, I’m sure. Year doesn’t really matter, the parts the same on the late 70’s up through the early 90’s, so I don’t doubt you have it. Any way to ship parts?” He blinked, startled by how the hesitance had turned into confidence, and he reached, pulling the laptop closer to open the inventory program.

“I’ve got a several Fords that fit that time frame. We don’t ship; you want the part, you gotta come get it.” He rattled off the address, and she confirmed it, saying she’d be there in about two days to get it. He hung up, shoved the computer away, and massaged his knee.

Damned useless thing.

/\/\/\

Two days later:

Dean pulled the Impala into her garage, killing the engine and leaning back, sighing. He was home. The Hunt had been simple, a chupacabra, but everyone he’d talked with had been too busy to take it. Bonus was that it was down in Texas, so he could slip across the border, get some of the heavy, highly-illegal-without-a-medical-license type drugs that Sam needed, and buzz through Autumn’s place on the way back.

Someone had bought the property. The old stone lions had been rebuilt, their eyes glittering queerly as they watched him, and he couldn’t go any further. There was a metal dumpster though, that he could see from the stopping point, and a mountain of lumber. Someone was rebuilding the witch’s home.

He sighed, reminded himself that it had been twenty years, and people were allowed to rebuild it. But damnit. He climbed out, and made his way inside, concerned when he didn’t see Sam.

Once he hit the den though, he realized why. There was roll of compression tape on the coffee table (purple this time), and through Sam’s baggy sweats, he could see the lines of the bulky brace that stabilized his ruined knee. A bottle of the illicit painkillers sat by Sam’s foot, and the younger Hunter was slumped over, snoring lightly.

Dean still felt a hit of guilt when he looked at Sam. It was his fault, he’d gotten cocky over the years. It had been months since they’d been hurt on a hunt, even longer since they’d been seriously hurt, and the case seemed like a simple open-shut werewolf hunt. He didn’t research further, went in assuming and arrogant.

They didn’t realize the bastard had made a mate a few days prior, and when that one got Sam, he could only watch helplessly as the thing threw his baby brother, a steel girder stopping his flight with a stomach twisting crunch. Sammy had screamed, a sound that still woke Dean up some nights, and it was a hard thing to kill the bitch before running to Sam, stomach lurching as he saw the mangled mess that used to be a fully-functioning knee. Hadn’t hesitated to call 911, pressing firmly on Sam’s pressure points to drop him into unconsciousness. _‘Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind’_ , John’s words to a young Dean, but it still didn’t stop the twist of guilt when he saw the bruises later.

The doctors had talked about knee-replacement, were trying to get Sam to sign the consent forms, but he was panicked, fighting and resisting, and had begged and pleaded, tears in his eyes, imploring Dean to not sign them as his power of attorney.

He knew he was wrong, but he’d refused, and had smuggled Sam out later, taken him back to the Salvage yard they’d inherited from Bobby a few years back. Both Winchesters had been shocked when the older Hunter’s attorney had called Dean’s cell, explaining that the older man had passed, and his will had transferred everything he owned to the two boys, split 50-50 between Dean and Sam. So the two had settled in, and Sam took over the logistics of running the salvage yard, inventorying what he could on his good days, trying to block the pain on his bad days.

That was three years ago, that the accident had happened, and Dean couldn’t help but notice that Sam had more bad days than good now. He was lucky to leave the house, spent most days on the couch or the chair, leg propped up. Dean crouched beside his little brother, shaking him lightly, and Sam startled, grunting in acknowledgment as he saw Dean.

“Hey man, I’m home.”

“I see that.” He scrubbed at his eyes, blinking hard. “Go okay?”

Dean nodded, voice still pitched low. “Yeah, simple. Got some more of the good stuff too.” Sam nodded, eyes already fuzzy, and Dean patted his ankle. “Get some sleep Sammy.” He was going to say more, but the crunch of gravel under tires jerked his attention around, and Sam froze. “Stay here. I’ll look.” He slipped quietly out the front door, thankful he hadn’t unarmed yet.

The Jeep Wrangler was battered, mud splashed gruesomely along the dusky blue paint, the top stripped off, revealing the black frame. Dean paused on the porch, eyeing the figure that was standing in the driver’s spot, arms braced casually along the top of the windshield, eyes hidden behind highly mirrored sunglasses that were snug on her face, making the features more angular. She had short hair, and it had to be dyed…Dean’s seen his share of women, and never seen that color outside of a box. It’s too…bright. Noticeable. Her thick denim jacket swung oddly, like it’s weighted, and he frowned, stepping down off the porch, but staying between the SUV and the house.

“Who the hell are you?” He tried to keep the challenge out of his tone, but he figured he probably missed the mark there.

She smirked, shrugged casually. “Called a few days ago about parts for an old truck. Lookin for Sam Singer..he around?”

Dean frowned, trying to look apologetic. “Nope, he’s gone home for the day. Might wanna try back tomorrow.” The wind shifted, blowing at his back, and he shifted with it, widening his stance as the woman’s brow suggested she was narrowing her eyes.

He could tell the moment the breeze hit her…not only did that shock of red hair move, but she froze, eyes widening so much that dark eyebrows snuck out from under the glasses. “Dean??”

That wasn’t good. He’s spent enough of his life hunting things with a good sense of smell, and if it knew his scent, he was screwed. He was sliding a hand around to the holster at his back, same time he registered Sam’s steps on the porch behind him, which all coincided with the woman laughing. He couldn’t even say the scramble out of the Jeep was graceful, more of a uncontrolled tumble down, and as thick black shitkickers landed in the dust, she was already striding towards them.

“Who the hell are you?” He didn’t even bother to hide the challenge, snapped the words like the threat they were.

“Aw, you don’t remember me?” The words were actually sincere, he could tell, and he froze as the woman was wrapped in a flash of light, two feet becoming four as the wolf bounded towards them. He had the pistol pulled and trained, even as the features recognized, and she froze, whining softly.

“Kiara?” Sam’s voice was quiet, full of shock, and she yipped, ear flickering above the blond swirl, and Dean shook his head, holstering the weapon as the canine bounded up on the porch, blowing past the elder Winchester to lean carefully and fondly against Sam. “Jeez…” He buried his fingers in the thick fur, scratching as he laughed softly.

Kiara nuzzled against his hand for a few seconds before tumbling back down the stairs, shifting again somewhere in the mess to become the woman again, striding confidently across the dirt. “Hey Dean.”

The words were soft, confident, and a bit warm, and he tilted his head. She slid the glasses up, pinning back the red locks, and the grey stare he remembered bore into him, bringing back fond memories, and he grinned. “Hey pup.”

She laughed, stepping close enough to let him pull her into a hug. “You were the only ones to ever call me that.” He hugged her hard, tensing at the twin bulges he felt, one against his stomach, the other under the hand at her back, and felt the smirk against his chest as she pulled away. Damn, but she was _short_. Couldn’t be over 5’2”. He’d be surprised if she even hit that. “You know how hard you two are to pin down?”

“There’s a reason for that. Come on, get inside you two. We’re not savages to stand outside, and dinner isn’t much longer.” Sam admonished, and Kiara ducked her head, grinning widely as she headed for the steps. “Uh-uh, I don’t think so.” She froze, hurt flashing across her face, and Sam smiled, opening his arms. “You ain’t passing me without a hug kiddo.” He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t hesitate, just stepped into the embrace and sighed quietly, murmuring words that were almost too low to catch.

“I missed you guys.”

/\/\/\

Sam managed to get back in to the couch without too much limping, settling on the worn furniture with a soft grunt as Dean made his way into the kitchen, the scent of coffee wafting out a bit later. He stretched his throbbing knee, easing the right foot under the coffee table, and watched with amusement as Kiara slowly wandered the room, eyes closed, nose in the air as she inhaled slowly and deeply. “Having fun?”

“It smells just like I remember.” The words were soft, quiet murmurs, and he shook his head, resting his cheek on his fist as he watched.

“Kid, get over here and sit down.” Dean handed him a mug, and Sam settled it on his knee, letting the warmth from the ceramic soak into the joint while Dean slipped back into the kitchen, coming out with a bottle of water he tossed to Kiara, and his own mug before settling in his chair. “Threw the rolls in, shouldn’t be much longer. Kiara, you’re staying for supper, got it?” Kiara smirked at the water, saluting with it casually as she settled carefully on the couch, stretching her arm out across the back impertinently. Sam’s eyes narrowed as her shirt settled, curling around the small bulge at her waist, and noticed Dean’s green gaze did too. “So, uh…”

Kiara laughed, kicking her feet out and crossing the ankles as she set the water by her feet before settling back against the sofa again. “Go ahead and ask, least I can do is answer before I head out later. And I wasn’t kidding, I seriously need to yank some truck parts.”

“What parts?” She shrugged, indicating it didn’t really matter, and Dean grumbled. “What’s this about heading out?”

“I sure as hell ain’t sleepin in madre concha, and I’m not driving home, not with that storm rumbling in dude. Ergo, I gotta find a motel for the night, so I can get the parts and get home before the Pack decides to go the way of mutiny.” Sam choked on his sip of coffee at the Spanish, turning red as he eyed her.

“Um, I don’t think you translated that quite the way you think..”

She laughed, shaking short red hair. “Nah, it’s right. Eli named her, sorta. Used to be Bitch, but after the concussion, changed it to Motherfucker.” She shrugged. “Eli said it was Madreconcha, so that’s what she is. Evil little demonic thing.”

“Eli?”

“Next question boys.” She cracked the water, taking a long pull as she kept her grey eyes away from theirs, and the tension was tight along her frame again. Figuring they’d already stepped on the elephant in the room, Sam shifted, eyes flicking to her stomach as he tried to hedge the question.

“So, uh…How…”

Apparently the question was a good one, and she relaxed, smirking at the younger Winchester. “Well, you see Sammy, when two people love each other very much…” she trailed off as Dean guffawed, and Sam felt the heat rising in his face.

“I know _that_ , smartass.”

“I know, I had to tease.” She shrugged carelessly, settling in against the cushions. “Best we can figure, three months.”

Dean cocked his head, settling his coffee mug on the table. “Best you can figure? Haven’t you done that ultrasound thing?”

She huffed an amused breath, raising a brow. “Yeah…by the way doctor, totally ignore any puppies you may see… You forget Dean, Loup Garou. Can’t exactly use traditional medicine. Just gotta hope for the best. Autumn was unique, we don’t exactly have folk running around that understands us.”

“Alright, alright, you got a point.” Green eyes rested on the bump, and he frowned. “You sure it’s only three months? You’re rather…pronounced there kiddo.”

She settled one hand fondly on her stomach, thumb stroking softly. “Yeah, but twins show early.” Her eyes were soft, warm, and Sam shifted a little, curiosity burning.

“I thought you didn’t have an ultrasound?”

Kiara smiled. “See, Loup Garou are real close to their wolves. So, twins tend to be the norm…it’s actually pretty rare to have singles. Sorta the same ratio as humans having identical twins…just, not that common.” She shrugged. “Couple that with the telepathy, well…99% sure it’s twins. Or a really large, bipolar single.”

“So I guess you were pretty special, huh?” Kiara’s eyes flipped up, locking with Dean’s green, and he paused, struck by the pain in her eyes.

“No Dean.” For a moment, he was back in the time loop the Trickster had created, the one where Sam had died, snuffed out by a crazed army dude, glancing in the mirror before the pain drove him to shatter the damned thing, to keep it from taunting him. He knew that look, had seen it in Sam’s eyes after _his_ turn with the demi-god. It was the look of a broken sibling.

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, genuine, and she shrugged softly.

“You didn’t do it. Hells, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be rotting beside him. Nothing to be sorry for Dean.” Her eyes went sharp, pressing. “If it hadn’t been for you and Sam, a lot of things would have been different.”

Quiet reined for several minutes, each one uneasy to break it, and Dean stood a bit hastily when the timer chimed incessantly in the kitchen, tossing a wry grin to the wolf. “Be right back.”

Sam shifted his leg, habit to get braced for the agony he’d have when he stood, and froze as the stabbing pain he’d braced for was absent. Even the drugs that Dean smuggled illegally couldn’t obliterate the pain, could just dull it enough to work around, but there was no ache. Kiara snatched her hand back, and he realized her fingertips had been resting against the back of his neck. “What did you do?” She hunched in on herself, looking like a dog expecting a blow, and he eased forward, catching her eyes. “What did you do Kiara?”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to ask first, and I usually do, but you were hurting too bad.”

“What did you do?” Dean’s voice was sharp, and both jumped, not having noticed him return. Kiara sighed quietly, gestured him over.

“Hold out your hand.” She had seen the torn knuckles earlier, knew they’d work for what she wanted. He hesitated, then thrust his hand out over the low table. “May I?”

“May you what?” The words were still hard, and she flinched.

“Easier to show. May I?” Dean nodded, and she rested her fingertips on the back of his hand, smiling a little as the torn flesh knit back together slowly. “That’s all I did to him.”

Dean’s eyes were disbelieving, but Sam’s heart got caught, fluttering against his ribs at the implication. “Did you…”

Grey eyes analyzed his face thoroughly, and she shook her head. “Not all the way. I can’t do it all at once, there’s just too much damage. It’ll take a few hours, so I just took away the pain. You…..you were just, hurting too much to ignore. It was screaming.” Her eyes were guarded, and he quirked a smile at her, smiling fully at her yelp as he hauled her against him for a tight hug.

“Thank you.” He ruffled her hair as she pulled away, and stood, bracing for the flare of pain, grinning as there wasn’t any. “Man.”

“Alright, alright, get in here and eat you two.” Dean’s voice gruff, and she ducked her head as she watched Sam test the joint before hobbling into the kitchen.

“’m not really hungry,” she mumbled, and Dean gestured with his spoon, pointing at the extra place setting.

“Sit.”

She tossed him a glare, muttering under her breath as she passed. “Woof.” Dean scoffed as she sat, and he settled a loaded plate in front of her, not noticing the way she blanched. Quiet reigned for several moments, as the boys tucked into their meals, and Kiara uneasily picked at a roll, nibbling lightly.

After a few minutes, Dean cleared his throat, tossing a pointed glance at Kiara’s bare left hand. “So, who’s the daddy?”

The wolf froze, setting the roll on the plate firmly. “Dean, don’t.”

“Come on Kiara. No ring, you don’t have anyone with you in the Jeep, and I get the feeling he’s not in the picture anymore. So what happened?”

She glared hard at him, grey turned steel as she tucked her chin down, locks falling into her eyes as she stared. “I said leave it.”

“And I said no.” Dean’s eyes were hard as emeralds, not budging, and she growled low.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft, imploring, and Dean shook his head, not moving his eyes from the grey stare.

“No Sammy. Someone used our baby girl, and I wanna know who. And why he didn’t think he needed to stick around.”

He blinked, and in that moment, Kiara shoved herself away from the table, chair scraping almost as loudly as the door slamming a moment later. “Good job Dean.”

“Shut it.”

“No Dean. She’s not ours. She’s an adult, and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants. She obviously doesn’t want us to pry. So leave it alone.” The last words were spoken slowly and deliberately, and Dean made a slow and deliberate point to stand up, leaning over the table as he braced his hands.

“No.”

/\/\/\

Dean stepped onto the porch, exhaling into the quiet, not surprised as his breath fogged. The storm had finally rolled in, lightly drizzling everything, and he sighed again in frustration. He knew he shouldn’t press, it wasn’t his business, but damnit. He couldn’t help the fact that he still saw the toddler in the woman, that the kid had always lit a protective streak a mile wide in him. He shook his head, resigning to the fact that he was going to have to do an apology thing, and eyed the yard, trying to figure out where the foolish child had gotten to.

The Jeep was still uncovered. He narrowed his eyes at it, Hunter instinct urging him, and he stepped down, flipping up the collar on his jacket as he did. A few more steps, and he could hear a soft sound on the far side, and he mentally groaned, afraid he’d driven her to tears. He didn’t mean to, honestly.

She was kneeling in the wet dust, one hand braced on the passenger door as she retched hard into the forming mud. “Shit, kiddo.” He slid a hand against her forehead, frowning at the lack of heat as she leaned into the contact, and another along her sternum, bracing her. “Promise I’m not feeling you up.”

She chuckled, panting as she slumped. “’M fine.”

“Yeah, sure. How long you been sick kid?” He felt her close her eyes, and waited, expecting another episode, but she eventually pushed away, standing to lean against the vehicle as she kicked dust and mud over the mess. She’d been out long enough for the drizzle to soak her, and she looked like a drowned puppy shivering in the cold. “Come on puppy. Let’s get you inside.”

“Gotta cover Madreconcha.” The words were hoarse, but the eyes were determined, so he nodded, helping her unroll the tarp under the passenger seat after she’d fished out a backpack, securing it with bungee hooks so the worst of the rain slid away from the interior.

He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just herded her inside, past the kitchen, and straight into the bathroom. “Shower, dry off, get changed.” He took in her pale complexion, and made it a point to ease his tone. “Need anything, orange juice, ginger ale?”

“I’m not sick Dean. I’ll be fine in the morning.” She sounded exhausted, and he nodded, leaned against the door frame.

“Just wanted to say…I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to push it. I just….” He sighed, scuffed his toes across the threshold. “I worry about you.”

He jumped when she slid a hand under his jaw, thumb stroking the bone as she tilted his face to meet her gaze. “Dean, it’s okay. I’ll explain later, but it’s…complicated. And still fresh enough to hurt.” He nodded, and she patted his cheek as she turned away. She rummaged in the bag for a moment, pulling out a toiletry bag, and he raised a brow. She caught the look, and grinned. “You never kept an overnight bag just in case?” He opened his mouth to retort, and she shook her head ruefully. “Nevermind, you lived out of the old girl. I forgot.”

“I’ll uh…get the guest room set up.”

“No, I don’t want to impose. I’ll just crash on the couch.”

He eyed the bulge barely visible under her shirt, and she slid a hand under it, thumb brushing against the mound. “Trust me, a bed is more comfortable. Plus, Sam’s doin some research…he may be up awhile. You’ll get more sleep in the guest room.”

She shook her head. “If Sam will let me, I want to heal up that knee as much as I can. It’s….shredded. I don’t know how the hell he’s been walking on it, but it needs fixed. Bad. I can doze while healing it, while he researches. And I often crash on the floor, so a couch is way up the food chain. It uh, it also lets me stay close to the door.”

“Nobody is getting in Kiara.”

“You don’t know that. It’s my job to protect the Pack, even if that’s just you and Sam right now.”

He tipped his head, pushing away from the door jamb. “Alright. I’ll scare up some blankets then.” As he turned away, he paused, and listened to the weary and pained sigh that escaped before the hiss of water covered it. “And then we’re gonna talk,” he whispered.

/\/\/\

Dean jerked awake as his chin hit his chest, inhaling sharply as he scanned the room. Sam met his gaze for a moment before turning back to the screen, scrolling through the pages as the fire snapped and popped. The eldest Winchester slowly settled back down, stretching with a large yawn as he let the sleepy warmth of the room settle over him like a blanket.

Kiara was passed out in her wolf form, stretched out on the couch beside Sam, nose up and under the shirt to press against his brother’s stomach. She mentioned that it worked best if it was skin-to-skin contact, though fur-to-skin or through clothing would suffice, though it would take longer. Aside from the initial yelp, Sam didn’t seem to mind, and Dean huffed in amusement to see Sam scrolling with one hand, the other buried in Kiara’s thick ruff of fur, slowly scratching.

She’d stumbled out of the shower yawning hugely and looking like the toddler Dean remembered, rubbing at her eyes as the wood stove radiated warmth. She’d fought it for a bit, slowly slumping more and more until Sam suggested laying down, and within minutes, she was out.

“She’s exhausted.” Sam’s voice was a quiet whisper, and Dean nodded, watching as Kiara flicked an ear in her sleep at their voices. “Man, did you ever think we’d see her again?”

“No Sammy. I thought she was long, long gone.” Kiara sighed against Sam’s stomach, nosing a bit as she settled again, and Dean bit back a laugh at the expression on Sam’s face. “How’s the knee feeling?”

Sam tested it, grinning as the joint moved smoothly, not clicking or hitching or freezing. “Good.” He stroked the chocolate fur some more before eyeing Dean again. “Though, I feel guilty taking advantage of a pregnant woman, you know?”

Dean shrugged, setting the book that he had been reading prior to dozing aside. “She said it didn’t hurt the babies any, so I wouldn’t fret.” He eyed his younger brother, analyzing, before sighing roughly as he sat forwards, scrubbing at his face. “Truths Sammy. It that bad?”

Sam stalled, finger tracing designs on the laptops touchpad, lip caught between even white teeth as he slowly closed programs, shutting the laptop with a reverence he didn’t hold for the Impala’s doors. “Truths? Yeah.”

Dean was quiet for several long minutes, eventually stood and helped haul his brother to his feet. “Then I’m glad she’s helping.” He draped the quilt off the back of the couch over the lupine form, and quietly shut off the lights on his way up to his bedroom.

/\/\/\

Early dawn light was creeping up his bed when the scent of cinnamon teased Dean awake slowly, setting his stomach to a low grumble. He buried his head under the pillow, hoping to slip back into sleep, but it seemed his gut knew that there was food downstairs, and it wasn’t going to be appeased until it had some of it. He cursed low but without feeling, and slid out of the warm nest of blankets into the chill November air. Damn, but it got colder the older he got. He found jeans, stuffed himself into them as he rummaged and pulled out a sweatshirt. A closer look in the dimness, and he was pretty sure it was one of Sam’s, but oh well. It was warm.

The lights in the kitchen and the den were on, the blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch, and no sign of their wayward puppy. The stove was already radiating heat though, and he forced himself away from the temptation. The kitchen was cleaned, coffee sitting on the burner, steam rising in lazy swirls, and the scent that woke him was super strong from the oven. He sighed, poured himself some of the coffee, and stuffed his feet into the boots he had by the door. Snagged his canvas jacket, tugging it on to ward off the chill, and braced himself.

Yup, just as cold as he though. Damn, but why didn’t they move more south? He hunkered down a bit into the material, taking a sip of the brew and letting it radiate slowly. And as he contemplated a cigarette, heard the soft soprano from the other side of the porch. He snuck a bit closer, heart stuttering as his ears started to make out the words.

_“So let it out, and let it in, hey Jude, begin. You’re waiting for someone to perform with, and don’t you know, that it’s just you? Hey Jude, you’ll do.”_

He turned the corner, watching as Kiara pushed the swing slowly with one outstretched foot, curled sideways in the old swing, so her back was against the arm rest. Her eyes were out over the lot, taking in the same view Dean could, and she had one hand slowly stroking the young, her voice a low and soothing lullaby already. She had a thick denim coat on, the sheer size suggesting it was a man’s, and the hitch in her voice when she nuzzled the fabric suggested a man very close to her.

She jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing tightly as he kneaded the tense muscles, and she slowly relaxed, leaning into him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up. I was tryin to be quiet.”

“You were fine. It’s a terrible hardship to be woken up by food, let me tell you.” She laughed, as he had been hoping, and after a moment, squirmed, and he let her go. She shifted, sitting proper in the swing, and he eased onto the worn, honey-colored wood, close enough to offer comfort if she wanted it, but not so close as to intrude. “You alright kid?”

“Yeah.” She inched closer, laid her head on his shoulder as he set the swing rocking again. “I miss him.”

“Who?”

“Eli.” Quiet settled in, and she sighed, squirmed again, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she settled in with a quiet noise. Several more heartbeats, and she smiled against his shoulder. “He was my mate, the pup’s daddy. One of the last I picked up building the new Pack.”

“What happened?” He pitched his voice low, and she snuffled a bit, blinking hard. “It’s okay.”

“Hunt went wrong. Way, way wrong.” She sniffed hard, and the words burst out, like a broken dam, tripping over each other as they spilled like a broken confession. “I didn’t research it enough, we thought it was just one poltergeist. I’d never heard of two, just thought it was the one, really strong. We did everything we were supposed to, followed everything. It was quiet, and I thought it was over. I was so stupid. Never let your guard down. First rule, always.” She quieted, swiping at her cheeks with the coat sleeves, and shook her head. “I thought it was clear. Next thing I know, he shoves me outta the way. He yelped, and by the time I turned around, he was dead. It snapped his neck, he didn’t even have a chance.” He squeezed her tight, and she gave a watery chuckle. “I thought I missed, you know, because of the stress. And the next month, I tested.” She snuffled hard, and her voice was rough. “I had no idea. He wanted pups so bad, I said we couldn’t. Not with a new pack, not learning how to Hunt. There was just too much to go wrong, too many dangers.” She huffed a parody of a laugh, and whispered quietly. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You take it one day at a time. That’s all you can do.” He waited a moment, and tilted his head. “Why were you singing that song?”

She smirked. “You sang it to me.”

“You were too little to remember.”

She actually laughed at that, shaking her head. “Loup Garou remember everything, from before they were born. I remember everything. The drive, the news about Autumn, you leaving me with the Washington Pack. Those few days, man, those were the brightest memories I have.”

/\/\/\

Kiara stuck around for a week, made sure the healing to Sam’s knee was holding, pulled the parts she needed, and left again, Jeep leaving a cloud of dust behind that rivaled what the Impala used to when she tore out of there.

She’d call, on occasion, confirming something before she tore into a hunt. They heard from other Hunters about the fall of activity in the area, the decline of anything supernaturally-based. And when those other Hunters checked out the reason, Sam and Dean weren’t surprised to get a phone call from Don later, saying the Pack had been killed again.

On the drive, Dean mused that the area was almost cursed, by the way the wolves died out again and again. And when they found their Kiara, grey eyes open and unseeing, they weren’t surprised to see two little cubs close by, one a deep russet, the other grey and black. And when they settled the three bodies on the funeral pyre, neither one bothered to pretend they weren’t wiping away tears.  
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**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS: Child death, intentional hunting of people, angst like you wouldn't believe.


End file.
